Muggle Among Magicians
by ladytahiri
Summary: What if Jaina wasn't Force-sensitive? This is an NJO AU which starts on the eve of the Yuuzhan Vong War.
1. Midnight's Children

Disclaimer: It's George's sandbox, I own nothing, please don't sue me.

* * *

"_Have you ever asked yourself why you were born with the ability to touch the Force? Why our family and not someone else's? Why the Skywalkers and not the Antilles? And why all of us? Why didn't Jaina take after Dad? Why were all three of Han and Leia's kids born with this ability as opposed to only one or two of us?"_~ Anakin Solo in "Fragile" by pregnantpadme

**Midnight's Children**

_23 ABY_

The party was in full swing, the drinks were flowing freely, the grownups were telling lame jokes and the kids were nowhere in sight – which usually meant they were up to no good. Lando Calrissian was making a killing at the sabaac table. A golden protocol droid hovered nearby with a tray of hors d'oeuvres; he was largely ignored by the guests.

The Solos' Eastport apartment faced west, offering a breathtaking view of Coruscant's sunset. Today, however, there was no one to enjoy it except an angry fourteen-year-old girl who was scuffing her boots against the railing. The party was being held in her brothers' honor.

She had almost gotten used to having them back. For the past month she, Jacen, Anakin and their friend Zekk had gone exploring every day in Coruscant's underbelly, a region with which Zekk was intimately familiar. It had seemed like old times again. There were no classes to attend, no homework to hand in. The Solo kids were a unit. They did everything together, from sneaking into nightclubs to pounding on the door of the refresher when one or the other of them was taking too long inside. Jaina remembered being ten years old and invincible, flanked by a brother on each side, and how the whole galaxy seemed to lay glittering at their feet.

That all changed when Uncle Luke took Jacen and Anakin to the Academy.

The worst part was that she couldn't even stay properly mad at Uncle Luke. If it had been somebody else running a special school for Jedi that stole her brothers away for seven months out of twelve, Jaina Solo would have raised hell. She would not have rested until she got them back. As a small child, she had been forced to spend enough time apart from her parents that she bitterly resented anyone who tried to break up her family. But what could you do when it was your own uncle's lifelong dream at stake? It wasn't fair to blame Luke for wanting to revive the Jedi Order. It was equally unfair to blame her mother, through whom the genes had passed, or her brothers themselves, who seemed on the whole delighted with Yavin Four. They sensed Jaina's reservations and spoke little of the Academy, but even so she felt a stab of jealousy every time she caught a reference to "Lowie" or "Tenel Ka."

She might have been tempted to blame her father, if it wasn't for the one night when he sat her down and told her very solemnly how thankful he was for her, how alone he had felt in the early days before the twins came along, when it had been just him, Luke, Leia and a boatload of Force-sensitives. "I love your mom and uncle but … It was like being under siege," Han had explained. "I felt so alone. You can't even imagine."

She was pretty sure, now, that she could. She tossed one chestnut brown braid over her shoulder and waited for the stars to come out.

She thought it might be Jacen who found her – it usually was – but she could tell by the sound of the measured tread behind her that it wasn't.

"What are you doing out here?" Luke came to stand beside Jaina, elbows resting on the railing.

"Stargazing," she said.

Luke squinted at the horizon. "Might be a few hours early for that." He paused. "There's _ryshcate_, if you want it."

"My mom's, or Mirax's?"

"Mirax's. Don't tell anyone but I wouldn't touch your mom's _ryshcate_ with a ten-foot pole."

"Me neither."

They settled into a companionable silence, even as the cloak of dusk settled upon the city. Luke said, "So, you're not happy about your brothers leaving tomorrow?"

"I'll miss you too, Uncle Luke. Honest."

He laughed. "I don't flatter myself that I'm the reason you're out here sulking."

"I am not _sulking_ – " she protested, but he cut her off.

"No, it's perfectly natural. Though as I recall, you didn't seem so upset about it last year."

"Mom and Dad didn't throw the boys a going-away party last year, either."

"True," he said.

Abruptly she tore her gaze from the skyline and turned to him, desperation in her brown eyes. "Can I ask you something, Uncle Luke?"

"Of course, Jaina."

"Would you consider taking on a non-Force-sensitive at the Academy? If it was someone who was serious about peace and justice and helping the galaxy? I mean, not everything you do there is about the Force. You have history and combat training and regular lessons just like any other school. It wouldn't be that different. You could make it work, if you had the right candidate – someone who already knew all about Jedi and wouldn't feel out of place."

Luke sighed. "I thought you liked your new school here."

"I do. That's not the point. Think of all the things I could be learning, all the good I could be doing if I had the same training as Jacen and Anakin! I want to make a difference, Uncle Luke."

"And you will," he assured her. "You will. Being Jedi is not the only way to make a difference. I once had a very illuminating conversation with Mon Mothma. She pointed out that of the two of us, Leia is the one who is widely seen to have squandered her potential by never completing her Jedi training. Leia, who in the course of her political career has probably prevented more wars, saved more lives, and secured the undying gratitude of more planets than I've ever set foot on! It's preposterous. Yet, that seems to be the prevailing public opinion. What you have to understand, Jaina, is that there is more than one way to serve."

She said, "Mom has the option of picking up her training anytime. I don't."

"Jaina. Do you honestly believe that the ability to touch the Force is the only thing you could have possibly inherited from your mother?"

"Everybody says I'm more like Dad."

"That's true as far as it goes," admitted Luke. "You're every iota as stubborn as him. But there's another side to that. It hasn't been easy for Han all these years, adjusting to life with Jedi who half the time are operating on a plane of existence that he has no access to. It grates on him sometimes. But he hasn't let his self-esteem suffer because of it. He knows who he is and he's proud of it. I don't want you to make the mistake of thinking that a Jedi's life is the only template for a meaningful existence, and that you're missing something because you lack the Force. You are perfect the way you were made. You need to explore your own strengths."

Jaina lifted her chin, tears sparkling in her eyes. "Does that mean you don't want me at the Academy?"

"I'm sorry, Jaina. I can't let you live your life in your brothers' shadow."

A low keening wail escaped from Jaina as Luke enfolded her in his arms. She buried her cheek in the rough fabric of his homespun robe. Her words were punctuated by hiccups. "Every" – hiccup – "body" – hiccup – "is going" – hiccup – "away."

He patted her shoulder. "Time was, all the bright kids wanted to run off to the Academy. The Imperial Academy," he clarified.

"You're" – hiccup – "not help–" hiccup "–ing, Un–" hiccup "–cle Luke."

It was some time before the sobs subsided and Jaina spoke again. She said, "Even Zekk is going."

"Is that what's been bothering you, then?"

"Yes. No. I don't know. Last time they went away at least I had Zekk. Now he's leaving me, too." She wiped her tear-streaked face with the back of her hand. "Zekk's always been _my_ friend. Sure, he was friendly with Jacen and Anakin, but not as close as he was with me. I'm afraid … that if he goes off to Academy, he won't want me when he comes back."

"Because you're not a Jedi," Luke supplied.

She shrugged.

"Jaina, who's my best friend?"

"Dad," she replied without hesitation.

"Does that answer your question?"

She shifted slightly and pulled away from Luke. "Maybe. Can you leave me alone for a little while, Uncle Luke?"

"Should I get Jacen?" His blue eyes were concerned.

"No! Force, no. He'll come when he's good and ready. I just need time to process what you said, that's all."

"Okay. But come inside soon, you hear me?" At her reluctant nod of assent he said, "You're a good girl, Jaina. One day you'll make us all proud."

She stood on the balcony for long minutes after that, goosebumps rising on her arms as twilight set in and the temperature grew a few degrees cooler. The stars were not visible – they never were, here where the lights never went out. She waited for her twin to come and call her Jaya and tell her everything was going to be all right. She waited a long time, and in the interim she stood and faced the darkness alone.


	2. Lando's Folly

_**Chapter One**_

_**Lando's Folly**_

27 ABY

Of all the worlds Jaina had ever visited, Dubrillion had to be the most ostentatiously expressive of its own particular character. It bore the mark of its maker. Lando was written in the reflective planes of the high, clustered towers; in the alabaster curve of the spiral corridors sweeping out from the starport's central hanger; but most of all in the giant scoreboard mounted atop the tallest building on the planet, its blazing red letters proclaiming the names of those individuals who currently held the record for running the asteroid belt known as Lando's Folly.

There was a gap of more than two minutes between the top two pilots.

Jaina's brothers were gaping openly at the board, and out of the corner of her eye she saw her father elbow Chewie, who gave a noncommittal grunt. A slight frown puckered her mother's brow. Like Jaina, she had known it was inevitable ever since Uncle Luke had proposed the destination. Jacen and Anakin were going to turn this into another contest in their ongoing not-so-friendly rivalry. At stake was the role of the Jedi and the ultimate purpose of the Force. Only a pair of teenage boys could turn a philosophical impasse into an opportunity to fly the pants off each other.

Jaina caught her aunt's eye. At Mara's nod of assent, Jaina turned and walked away from her family, who were listening with half an ear to Lando's tour guide spiel even as they mentally wagered on the outcome of the competition. When they finally noticed her absence, Mara would step in with a perfectly reasonable explanation. Meanwhile Jaina had work to do. There were two things in the galaxy that Jaina Solo was good at. One of them was flying. For the sake of her own healthy ego, if not for the sake of saving her brothers from a fruitless debate, she was not going to let either of them win this round.

There was a steady stream of freighters lifting off from the spaceport, although in daylight only the silhouette of Dubrillion's sister planet, Destrillion, was visible overhead. When the _Millennium Falcon_ had arrived in system, Jaina had noted that the two planets were comparable in size and described almost identical orbits about the primary. If not for the fact that the one boasted clear blue skies while the other's atmosphere was occluded by a noxious brown cloud of pollutants, they could have been twins. _There's more to twins than meets the eye_, she decided.

She had wanted to bring her own X-wing. She hadn't understood why Aunt Mara had vetoed her request almost immediately, or why Uncle Luke had gone along with it, and the nugget of that annoyance had been gnawing away at her until they dropped out of hyperspace beside the _Jade Sabre_ to discover that Anakin was not there. Mara had fed Artoo the wrong coordinates, Uncle Luke had explained airily. A little test. And Leia had bitten her lip because even though Anakin was her baby he was Mara's apprentice now. He was perfectly capable of reaching out with the Force to pinpoint a mob of his relatives sitting not five parsecs away, and sure enough before Leia even had time to voice her tentative concern Anakin was there. Jaina could hear his grin echoing through the comm unit as he complained that Aunt Mara was getting soft in her old age.

It was, in truth, a peculiar way to go on a trip. There were the things they said out loud to each other and then there were the things that nobody talked about, things that simmered nonetheless beneath the innocuous dinner table conversations and the games of dejarik. Jaina wondered if Uncle Luke and Aunt Mara had experienced the same phenomenon on the _Jade Sabre_. Maybe not. Maybe, being married on top of being Jedi Masters, there weren't any barriers to communication. But Jaina doubted it. She thought about how Jacen was sixteen going on sixty, how Anakin had caught the "save-the-galaxy-singlehandedly" syndrome, how Aunt Mara's already precarious health had taken a nosedive after accompanying Leia to Rhommamool. She thought about how her father's reminiscences of the "good old days" – when he and Chewie had eked out a living under the Empire – were tinged with the unmistakable bittersweet tang of nostalgia. She thought about how long it had been since they'd all gone on a family vacation, and how calamitously the previous such experiment had ended.

On the whole, she was glad that the real purpose of their coming here was so Uncle Luke could lay down the law for Kyp Durron. It would give them all something else to think about.

Not that she thought it was a bad idea in any case. Jaina would pay money to see the rogue Master taken down a few notches, preferably in a public place, accompanied by people throwing fruit if at all possible. She knew it was a cheap and petty whim she harbored, yet could not bring herself to let bygones be bygones. Kyp had it coming to him. Seeing his name at the top of the scoreboard only gave her more incentive to beat him.

She wasn't sure what she was looking for until she found it in the pilots' mess hall. Him, rather. He was human, medium height, medium build, dirty blonde hair brushed away from his forehead. Jaina didn't need the silver cylinder at his belt to know him for a Jedi. Call it a sixth sense, but she had developed the ability to spot a Jedi from a kilometer away. Of course it helped that her uncle had personally instructed every single one of the galaxy's eight or nine dozen Jedi.

"How are you, Miko?" she said as she took the seat across from him.

"Jaina! What are you doing here?"

"Got bored sitting around on Coruscant. My parents thought a trip to the Outer Rim would be just the thing."

"Your parents are here?" he asked, surprised.

"Both my brothers, too. They're dying for a chance to smash your record."

Miko laughed. "It's not _my_ record they're up against. I must be nearly three minutes out of Kyp's best time."

"You sure you're not holding back? Because I wouldn't blame you, him being your Master and everything. Who knows what he'd do if you showed him up – latrine duty for a week, maybe."

"Kyp's not like that," Miko assured her. It was spoken in jest but Jaina could detect the deep devotion to and respect for Kyp that lay beneath his words.

She had never understood why a quiet, unassuming young man like Miko Reglia would be drawn to a figure as controversial and outspoken as Kyp Durron. Admittedly, she didn't know Miko well – had in fact met him only a few times at formal functions like knighting ceremonies and her brothers' graduation. Still, the apparent disparity between master and apprentice's personalities was interesting. Jacen and Anakin had their own theories, chief of which involved Miko's girlfriend of two years, Octa Ramis, whom they confidently asserted had Miko "whipped." Jaina tended to take anything her brothers said with respect to girls or dating with a grain of salt. Miko Reglia was someone she wouldn't have minded getting to know.

"So, do you guys have a home base?"

He spread his hands to encompass the din of the mess hall. "You're looking at it. We were working out of an old freighter for a while there, but in our line of business it pays to be mobile."

"And to present as small a target as possible," Jaina agreed. She didn't ask exactly what line of business Kyp and his Dozen-and-Two-Avengers were in. She didn't need to. Everybody knew.

_Vigilante justice_, Jacen called it.

_Is there another kind of justice_? Anakin had wondered.

At that point Jaina had exchanged a long-suffering look with her father and left the room. She turned now to Miko and said, "Do you enjoy what you're doing?"

"I don't know." He was thoughtful. "No, I guess not. But I think it has to be done."

"That's an honest answer."

"I trust Kyp," he said simply, and somehow she knew that it wasn't Kyp's judgment or his character he trusted; it went deeper than that. "Is your uncle here with you?"

Jaina nodded.

"Well, I can't say I'm surprised."

"It's not going to be pretty."

"I think you underestimate your uncle's regard for my master."

"Maybe," she conceded. "But enough of the depressing stuff. Tell me about running the belt. What's it like? How many times have you done it?"

"Only the once, myself."

"Only once?" she repeated, incredulous. "And you managed the second best time ever?"

"Some of the others have done it ten, twelve times. As a rule your times don't tend to improve by any appreciable margin between the first run and subsequent ones. So I thought, why bother? I'm not one of those people who gets a kick out of seeing their name at the top of the scoreboard."

That, Jaina could certainly believe. "What about the challenge? Don't you want to see how far you can push yourself?"

"I already know what my limits are." Miko smiled to take the sting out of his evident lack of enthusiasm. "Anyway, Kyp is the one you want to talk to about challenges. I swear he goes to the gym to do chin-ups against men half his age, just to make a point. What the point is, I'm still not sure. All I know is that running the belt is like a drug for him."

Jaina took a moment to digest this. "What kind of model do they put you in?"

"A modified TIE fighter. You get the hang of the cockpit and the controls quickly enough. It's the adjustable crash crouch that trips people up …" He trailed off. "Your brothers aren't the only ones who are dying to have a go at this, are they?"

"No. I guess not."

"I hope you fly well, Jaina."

She met his earnest gaze and saw that he meant it and was grateful.

* * *

To nobody's surprise, Anakin went first.

Anakin was infallibly the first to volunteer, whether for dangerous missions or bawdy drinking songs. Not that Mara would ever let on that she knew that her apprentice knew any drinking songs. Besides, it was nothing she hadn't heard before. Back when her job had required her to spend a great deal of time in cantinas, she had learned them all by heart. The lyrics might change but the meaning did not.

There were no chairs in the viewing chamber. The cavernous walls were filled with one gigantic viewscreen offering a panoramic of the asteroid belt, while technicians perched on stools, sometimes scampering between onlookers from one side of the room to the other.

The lack of a place to sit had not begun to tell on her. Yet. She intercepted Luke's tendril of concern, along with his sidelong glance, and brushed it aside.

_Later_, Mara sent. _I can stand like everyone else for now_.

She wondered if it were possible for her to be more nervous, watching it all unfold on the viewscreen, than Anakin himself was. Sometimes it seemed he was so reckless that she had to carry around enough anxiety for both of them. Other times she saw Leia smoothing back a lock of his tawny brown hair and it broke her heart. Anakin was the son that Mara had never had – and was increasingly certain that she never would have – his temperament and outlook so similar to a young Luke's that it was frightening. Strangers on the street often took the three of them for a family, two doting middle-aged parents and the apple of their eye, their only child.

Mara knew how important this run was to Anakin. Yet she could not shake the conviction that something else was afoot today, something bigger than her apprentice wanting to one-up his brother, bigger than all of them. The feeling grew as she watched Anakin navigate the minefield of asteroids, periodically releasing a whoop of delight over the comm. She was almost minded to tell him to concentrate on his flying. But it was, after all, who he was. Anakin was brash and insolent and generous and loyal to a fault. He was also single-mindedly stubborn as only someone of mixed Solo and Skywalker heritage could be. The last time Mara had come out of remission a month ago, she had asked Luke to take Anakin on as an apprentice. Anakin had gently but firmly refused Luke's offer, even though he must have known that the offer came indirectly from Mara herself. The subtext was clear: He was going to stand by Mara, whatever it took. Mara didn't know whether to curse his pigheadedness or exalt over his obvious devotion to her. _It scares me sometimes, how I love that boy to pieces_.

"Seven minutes, forty seconds," announced Lando. Mara found that her hands were bunched into fists.

A tickle of awareness at the nape of her neck, and then Luke's arms enfolded her, his chin resting lightly on her shoulder. "You're forgetting to breathe," he whispered into her hair.

She snorted. "And you're making a scene. I can stand just fine."

"No shame in it." Luke tilted his head to indicate where Han and Leia were clinging to each other across the crowded room.

Mara relaxed in her husband's embrace, eyes straying once again to the timer clock. "It's not Anakin, you know. Despite what you might think."

"_Not_ Anakin?"

"It's … something else. I think the Force is trying to tell me something."

"Well," said Luke, "I wish the Force would tell me things more often, that I do."

"I promise I'll find a seat when Anakin gets back. Are you happy now?"

"Ecstatic," he said, lips brushing her ear.

Anakin lasted seventeen minutes and fifty-three seconds, a new record.

The blow that finally took him out was gentle as far as these things went. His fighter brushed against a piece of debris which sent it careening into space, though fortunately not into the path of any oncoming rocks. Mara waited for the tension that had been building inside of her to abate, as it always did when Anakin eluded immediate danger. But this time it didn't. It kept building, like the echo of a distant bell faintly transmitted through mountain passes. _Get a hold of yourself, Jade_.

Mara recalled that there was at least one thing she could rejoice about.

"Take that, Kyp Durron," she muttered under her breath. Behind her she felt Luke's answering smile.

That was how Anakin found them, grinning like idiots at the updated scoreboard.

"Aunt Mara! What are you doing on your feet?" He didn't sound winded, even though his hair was plastered to his forehead and he cradled his helmet in one hand, having dashed straight over from the hangar bay.

Within two minutes he had commandeered a stool and settled Mara into it. Luke remarked, "It's amazing the things your aunt is willing to suffer for your sake, that she would never dream of suffering for mine."

"It's less embarrassing when I fuss over her, since I'm young and clueless as well as tactless. People think I'm sweet for being so solicitous of my poor neglected auntie."

Mara glowered at both of them.

Luke said, "Anakin, that was some impressive flying out there. One pilot to another."

Anakin nodded solemnly in acknowledgement of the praise. His eyes sought Mara's, and what he saw there must have satisfied him because he flashed her a crooked Solo grin in return. They turned their attention back to the viewscreen.

Mara had to keep reminding herself to breathe throughout Jacen's run. She was overcome by an immense wave of relief when he was eliminated around the ten-minute mark, having just barely failed to edge Kyp out of second place. _Maybe this is it_, she thought. _Maybe it's over now that Jacen's safe_.

But in her heart of hearts she knew it was not so. There was still one more Solo left to go.

There was a fire that burned in Jaina which Mara recognized only too well. It might have consumed her, were it allowed to run rampant. Jaina exercised a degree of control over her own emotions that demonstrated plenty of raw power and no finesse. Someone, someday would take a match to the powder keg that was Jaina, and this would cause whole star systems to implode. Mara was as certain of it as she was of her own name. Meanwhile she was plagued by a nagging sense of regret. Jaina's strained relationship with her parents – her mother in particular – was plain to see. If circumstances had been different, Mara might have considered taking Jaina on as an additional apprentice. After all, it had done wonders for Anakin; becoming Mara's surrogate son had actually strengthened his bond with both his own parents. Obviously, that was not an option when it came to Jaina.

Whereas she could barely recall paying attention to Jacen's run, her eyes were now riveted to the timer clock.

Three minutes.

Five.

Seven.

Nine.

"Unbreachable pattern!" someone shouted, but Mara watched her niece sail through the cluster of asteroids like she was dodging midday traffic.

Somewhere a Wookie was howling in triumph.

Ten minutes.

Mara's eyelids drifted shut. _Let this be it_, she prayed. _I don't think I can take any more_.

She felt the pressure of Luke's fingers increase ever so slightly at her collarbone, keeping her grounded in the moment, in the here and now. But she was slipping away. There was a tectonic shift taking place within her.

"Kyp's going to lose," she said.

"He's already lost." Luke raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Mara – "

She shook her head. Immediately she regretted it, as the wave of dizziness washed over her. The last thing she saw before the blackness claimed her was the blown-up image of Jaina's TIE fighter, on a collision course with a leviathan of an asteroid. The time was eleven minutes, eleven seconds.


	3. Beginner's Luck

_**Chapter Two  
Beginner's Luck**_

She woke to the sound of a sabacc deck being shuffled. She could tell the deck had seen a lot of play, and by now was probably as well-worn as a pair of old boots whose insoles bore the imprint of her arch. She could tell just by listening.

Without opening her eyes she said, "The bottom card is showing, Jacen."

The shuffling stopped.

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you picked that up in the Force," came an amused drawl which sounded nothing like her twin.

Jaina was suddenly sitting upright.

The light hurt. It made her eyelids heavy and she had to squeeze them shut again, without being able to determine whether she was looking at the overhead glow panels or the sterile white walls of the medcenter. In the distance, Kyp was a hazy silhouette. She wished she _did_ have the Force, if only because it might have given her an inkling of what in the nine Corellian hells he was doing here.

"Where's Jacen?"

"It's the middle of the night. I told Jacen I would stay with you a while; your parents took the first couple of shifts but a body's got to rest."

"And you were the only person available." _When I get my hands on you, Jacen Solo …_

"I volunteered," he said.

Jaina decided that it was, after all, a good thing that she couldn't open her eyes. She remembered that she ought to be angry with Kyp. She tried to summon her wounded pride and her righteous indignation, but in his presence her outrage seemed to have evaporated and she was left feeling … mortified. She was lying in bed wearing a stiff, shapeless shift and – aside from her underwear – absolutely nothing else underneath. Had she been able to see him she would have drunk in his sardonic expression like a woman dying of thirst. She was glad she couldn't.

He said, "How are you feeling?"

"Sore," she admitted. "What happened?"

"You got pretty banged up."

"I figured that part out already."

"You've been out cold for two days."

That was not exactly true, as she could recall her mother's soothing voice, her father's solid presence, and Anakin's agitated pacing. Jacen had never been far from her side. _He sure picked a great time to leave me_, she thought. Absently she wondered why Uncle Luke and Aunt Mara had not been to see her.

There was a question that had been nagging at her ever since she woke up, something so urgent that she was willing to give Kyp the satisfaction of witnessing her burning curiosity, so long as she got answers. "Do you know how long I lasted?"

He didn't reply immediately. He made her wait for it, breathless, every nerve on edge. Finally he said, "Eleven minutes, fifty-six seconds."

"So I didn't beat Anakin." Something inside Jaina deflated. If Kyp hadn't been in the room she might have slumped against the pillows, but she made herself maintain an erect posture, giving nothing away.

He could tell anyway, perceptive jerk. His tone was consolatory. "No, but you beat me. And Miko. And Jacen. Not bad for a first run." She heard the chair creak as he leaned back. "You do realize that I'll have to do it all over again, just to take my record back from your brother."

"You can try." Disappointment at her own showing was momentarily eclipsed by pride on Anakin's behalf. No way was Kyp going to close the gap of more than five minutes between himself and Anakin. Not in this century. She knew what a gifted pilot her little brother was; knew it as only another ace pilot could know. Anakin flew by intuition as much as by skill. He was much less analytical than Jaina in the cockpit. He could afford to be – he had the Force.

"There is no try," Kyp reminded her lightly. "Besides, it wasn't _Anakin_'s run that Lando had the techs cut into the broadcast screens planetwide. We all saw the last couple of minutes before you hit that boulder."

"What?" Her eyes flew open. This time they found his piercing green gaze. "Wait. It was Anakin who broke your record by five minutes."

"But you had by far the hardest course to fly. Jay, I was worried about you."

"Don't call me that," she growled.

"You used to like it when I called you that," he said softly.

"_Please_, Kyp. Don't."

He held her eyes for another moment, then dropped his gaze to his lap, where he was absently riffling the sabacc deck. He had pulled a chair up to her bed. It occurred to Jaina that he must have been sitting there for a long time, if he was playing cards to entertain himself. Without speaking she held out her hand and he deposited the cards in her open palm and she curled her fingers around them, feeling the worn edges. It was Jacen's deck, the one he carried around for magic tricks. It had been months since Jacen had done any magic tricks.

"What are you really doing here?"

"Here on Dubrillion?"

"No, here in my room in the medcenter in the middle of the night," she said impatiently.

"Watching you sleep."

She threw the deck at him.

The cards stopped within centimeters of his head, as if striking an invisible barrier, and fluttered to the ground at his feet. Jaina said, "Get out."

When he didn't move, she added, "You can't just walk out of my life and then saunter back in like nothing happened. Get out before I yell for the Emdees."

"Doesn't what we had on Yavin mean anything to you?" Kyp was looking at her like he was trying to memorize every feature of her face. But that was patently absurd because he didn't care about her. If he cared about her at all, he wouldn't have left her on Yavin with a dilapidated shuttle, a ridge of love bites from neck to shoulder, and a bruised and broken heart.

"You're the one who dumped me on my backside. For the last time, get out."

He did. At the door he brushed past Jacen, who shot Kyp a searching look but did not detain him. Jacen's mouth curved into a smile at the sight of her sitting up and she instinctively moved closer to the wall to make room for him on the bed.

"Where have you been?" she demanded.

"With Aunt Mara," he said apologetically. "I feel terrible about not having gone to see her but I couldn't bring myself to leave you. Then, when Kyp offered …"

"Never mind that. What's wrong with Aunt Mara?"

"She blacked out about the same time you hit the asteroid. We still haven't figured out why but her condition has stabilized and she regained consciousness a couple of hours ago. Uncle Luke and Anakin are camped out in her room in the other wing of the medcenter."

There was a sinking feeling in the pit of Jaina's stomach. "It's the disease, isn't it."

"The medics haven't – "

"It is. And I was somehow the cause of it."

"Oh for Force's sake don't start with that," said Jacen.

"It's true! The first time it happened it was because I was in danger. Now this."

"Stop it, okay? Blaming yourself won't do her any good. Now, do you want to tell me why my sabacc cards are all over the floor?"

"No," she said shortly.

He didn't press her. Instead, he said, "Did Kyp tell you that you beat him? And me, of course, but that's not news. You always beat me."

"I didn't beat Anakin."

He patted her hand. "Next time, Jaya. You shoot him down in the sims what, half the time?"

"Anakin hasn't spent the last four years of his life at the Coruscanti Pilot Institute."

"He has the Force, Jay. It makes a difference." Jacen seemed reluctant to say it but there it was. Two of Han Solo's children had inherited his love of flying, but while Jaina had been training to be a pilot, Anakin had been devoting himself with equally single-minded purpose to the goal of becoming a Jedi. And he _still_ managed to outfly her.

"I'll take you to see Aunt Mara in a day or two," Jacen offered.

"In a day or two, she'll be beating the stuffing out of Anakin at saber practice."

"I sure hope so."

"Jacen, what was that all about?"

"What was what about?"

"Getting _Kyp Durron_ to sit with me. I nearly had a heart attack when I woke up."

"Oh?" Jacen's voice was affectedly disinterested. "And why was that?"

She punched him, none too gently. He caught her fist before it connected with his ribcage and folded the arm back over her heart.

"You know why," Jaina spat. "Because he's … Kyp. He's cocky and insufferable and he makes me angry without even trying."

"On what – a weeks' acquaintance? That's how long you were at the Academy for me and Anakin's graduation, wasn't it?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Kyp is one of Dad's oldest friends. We've known him since we were kids."

"But we're not kids anymore."

This was true. Here was the hard kernel of truth at the root of her discomfort, the cause of her sleepless nights and the paralyzing fear that seized her at intervals. She was no longer a kid. She was eighteen years old and she knew how to do exactly two things well – be a pilot and be a Jedi. It appeared that she was not good enough at the one, and lacked the genetic predisposition for the other.

Very quietly, Jacen asked, "Did he hurt you, Jay? On Yavin?"

"Not the way you think."

"How do you know what I think?"

She punched him again. This time he let the blows rain down upon his shoulder, her fists pounding futilely against his unyielding flesh, against the immovable, unnamable forces of this brave new grown-up galaxy. She couldn't find the words to talk about what was happening with Mara, or what had happened with Kyp, so she continued to hit Jacen as if her fists would communicate what her tongue couldn't.

When it was over he drew her head down to the pillow, and then he got up and sank into the chair that Kyp had vacated, and neither of them said anything. But she knew that he would wait for her breathing to grow even before he nodded off.

* * *

The game was called Anorexic Little Nerfs. Han, the self-confessed nerfherder of the bunch, was losing rather spectacularly.

It had been a wildly popular game among the pilots of a half century past, recently resurrected as such fads sometimes were. Han had shaken his head when he heard about it. "That was before my time."

"When _was_ your time, Dad?" quipped Jaina. She was sprawled on a repulsorchair which Anakin had stolen from the lobby, thermal blankets piled high across her knees. She was the smallest person in the room and she was occupying by far the largest seat. To her left, Anakin finished organizing his hand and opened the trick with the Seven of Flasks.

Han studied the card distastefully. "The problem," he said, "is that there's no wagering going on. No odds. Where's the fun in that, I ask you?"

They were not playing sabacc. Jaina's mother jokingly claimed that her father cheated at sabacc. He didn't, but Han Solo's legendary luck was not a fluke – he really did win against everyone except Lando. Against Lando he won only half the time. Even though Jaina had greatly refined her strip sabacc skills over the last few years at pilot school, she knew she was nowhere near the cardsharp that her father was. Besides, it was probably not a good idea to let on that she played strip sabacc.

Both her parents had been there when she woke in the morning. Leia sat on Jaina's bed and read to her from holozines. She made a point of selecting the most inane passages from the worst tabloids and reading them aloud in her professional orator's voice, which sent Jaina into convulsions of giggles. Jaina had to admit that she was grateful for her mother's presence. After lunch Han had announced, without preamble, that he was going to acquire a sabacc table.

When he had proposed asking Kyp to join them he had said it like it was a done deal, as if no one could possibly have any objection. And really, what was Jaina supposed to say? _Dad, you can't invite Kyp to play sabacc because I almost had an affair with him, except he dumped me on my ass and now we're not speaking to each other? _The last part wasn't even true. As much as she wanted to punish Kyp, as much as she told herself that she had to act nonchalant because Han was in the room, the fact was that it was only too easy to slip into the pattern of their comfortable banter. Sith, but she had missed Kyp. Why couldn't she stay mad at the man?

She cast around for someone to blame for her predicament and settled on Jacen. They were using Jacen's deck, although Jacen was not present because he didn't have the faintest idea how to play sabacc. He probably thought that sabacc cards had been invented for doing magic tricks.

It had been Anakin who suggested the game. Stars alone knew where he had learned it – Jaina vividly recalled the first time she had walked in on four of her classmates sitting around a sabacc table, shouting about rancors and Wampa rats. It was finals week and she thought they had gone insane. The initiation process had been painful, but once Jaina had learned to play she had agreed that it was addictive.

It took a while to explain the basics to Han. What it came down to was that some of the face cards were assigned positive values, and it was imperative to avoid these at all costs lest one should gain points, or "kilos." There were cards with negative point values, too, but these were much fewer. The game ended when one or more of the players accumulated one thousand "kilos."

"Wait a minute," said Han. "You mean to tell me that nerfsteak is fattening and _banthas_ are like a diet pill? What kind of idiots came up with these rules?"

They kept score with a pile of decicreds, more than half of which were now arrayed in neat rows in front of Han, who gave a resigned sigh before playing the Master of Sabers.

Kyp laid the Mistress of Sabers beside it. Smirking, he said, "How does it feel to be losing your edge, old man?"

"Ha! You're just miffed that my boy beat you at Lando's Folly."

"Beginner's luck," scoffed Kyp.

Jaina shot him a deprecating look. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Durron."

When all the decicreds had converged on Han's side of the square table the game was declared over. Han clapped Kyp on the back and said, "Thanks for being a sport and joining us. It would have been nice to have Jacen, but I can't say I'm sorry that we got you instead. So. What's next for you, kid?"

"I'm heading out with the Avengers in a few days. Something in the Belkadan system we want to check out. I can't tell you how good it was to see you again, though."

"The feeling's mutual." Han's expression grew serious. "But that wasn't the reason I came all the way out here."

It was as if they had forgotten that Anakin and Jaina were still in the room. Jaina began to suspect that her mother had been right all these years – her father was a lot sneakier than most people gave him credit for. She could see now that there was more than one reason he had invited Kyp to play sabacc.

"You know the only reason Luke hasn't had it out with you yet is because of Mara," said Han.

Kyp appeared unruffled. "I haven't made any secret of my beliefs. I've always believed that the Order needs to take a more proactive stance."

"Look, I don't pretend to understand how this Jedi business works – "

"That's never stopped you having an opinion on it."

"All right. Here's what I think. I think there aren't many people in the galaxy I care about, aside from these reprobates" – he gestured at Anakin and Jaina – "more than I care about you or Luke. Luke is a friend and a brother and you – well, you're practically family, Kyp. And what makes it worse is that I see so much of Luke in you – a young Luke who fought to bring down the Empire. You two are like two sides of the same coin. Sometimes I wish he would look at himself in the mirror."

"Maybe he's the one you should be telling this to."

"No, I'm not done with you yet. I've stood where you're standing and I can tell you right now there's a sarlacc pit at the end of this road. You think you're the only one who can see what's in front of you? You think the rest of us are blind? Son, we've all been there. We've dismissed the old guard as cautious or unimaginative or obsolete but you know what? One day you'll be standing where Luke is now and then we'll all see if you do any better than him."

Jaina suddenly felt the need to step outside. She had thought that she was over Kyp, that she would relish watching the inevitable confrontation with her uncle, but it was growing increasingly obvious that she wasn't. It hurt to see her father lecture him. Not because there was any malice in it – Han meant well. But it provoked in Jaina an overwhelming impulse to defend Kyp, and that scared her. She shoved the blankets aside, rose from the repulsorchair and walked out the door.

She didn't get far. The Emdees were under instructions not to let her out of the medical bay. She came to a set of double doors, the access panel blinking red, and she studied the hinges and thought about going back for Anakin's lightsaber to carve her way through it but knew that she didn't want to explain herself to Anakin or Han or anyone else. The whole point of leaving had been to get away from them, to escape their protectiveness and their argumentativeness and her own tumultuous feelings.

"Going somewhere?" asked a voice behind her.

"You."

"Me," agreed Kyp.

"Why did Dad send you?"

"What makes you think it wasn't my own idea?" Kyp peered at her as if looking for an answer in the depths of her brandy-brown eyes. "Walk with me," he said.

They maintained a careful distance. Jaina was sure that if she got any closer to Kyp she would be sucked into him like a renegade moon into a black hole, and for his part he acted like if he got within a two-foot radius of her he was going to suffer an allergic reaction. A fatal one.

"Do you want to tell me why you were so upset about your dad taking me apart? _I_ wasn't upset about it."

"What if I told you I stormed away in a fit of righteous indignation on your behalf?"

"I would consider that highly unlikely."

She stopped and turned to face him. For the first time that day she allowed herself to look at him, really look at him, to drink in the angular planes of his face and the waves of wild black hair tinged with gray at the temples, the half-smile that sometimes played over his lips. Jaina knew better than to think he was perpetually amused. Rather, he recognized that the only alternative to finding everything humorous was finding it tragic.

"I can't do this, Kyp."

"Do what?"

"Be around you."

"I had no idea my company was so repellant to you."

"It's not and you know it. You know exactly why this – this – can't go on. Do you have any _idea_ what it was like waking up in that room with you sitting there like there was nothing in the world the matter?"

"Some," he said. "And I'm sorry. I didn't mean for that to happen. You hadn't woken up the whole time your parents were there, or your brothers, and I had no reason to expect you'd come around when I'd been there less than an hour myself. I just wanted to see you again."

"You wanted to see me? Why? You sure tried hard enough to get away from me."

"Jaina." He made as if to touch her, but she flinched as if burned, and he dropped his arm. "I don't want to see you get hurt."

"By anyone else. You want to inflict all the wounds yourself, is that it? You are a sick, sick man."

"I probably deserved that," Kyp admitted.

She wanted to slap him. She was certain he could see the shape of the action forming in her mind. She was equally certain he would not have lifted a finger to prevent it even had he read her intent as clear as day. She looked down. "I can't stand it when he gets like that, you know. My dad. He loves you and he loves Uncle Luke. He's just a nice guy who happened to fall in love with a Jedi. Pretty soon he'd fallen right into a nest of them."

He took her meaning immediately. "The situations are not comparable –"

"The hell they aren't! You're the most powerful Jedi since Luke Skywalker. Probably _more_ powerful than Uncle Luke, if it comes to raw potential in the Force. It's like asking the man who painted the _Killik Twilight_ to spend the rest of his days with a stone-blind manual laborer who's never been to Alderaan in her life."

"I never said that. Never."

"You didn't have to," replied Jaina.

Kyp ran his fingers through the tangle of his hair – a gesture he only employed when he was agitated, or stalling, or both. She waited.

He said, "What do you want from me?"

"Nothing. Everything. Choose."

"I thought you wanted me to go away, leave you alone." There was a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"You want to know something? The reason I came on this trip. I could have stayed home. My parents wouldn't have insisted." She drew a deep breath and looked straight at him when she said it. "I turned eighteen last week."

As soon as the words were out of her mouth she knew she had made a mistake, knew how immature and desperate she sounded. But damned if she was going to admit it. She stood her ground and kept her eyes on Kyp. "That was the other thing, my being too young. Age is a funny thing. Am I a grown woman now and a girl when I met you six months ago?" Her voice was wavering. "Say something, Kyp."

She saw his lips moving but no sound emerged. Then he tried again; this time she heard, "Jaya."

She must be dreaming.

"Jaya," he said, closing the space between them in a heartbeat. He tucked her head under his chin and his hands settled on her hips. "Oh, Jaya." She was small but he wasn't a tall man, only average height, and she fit him perfectly. The sound of him saying her name over and over was like music to her ears. He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

A sharp intake of breath – and then he stepped away.

She could feel the abrupt shift in him. She followed his gaze to where Anakin stood rooted to the spot some fifty meters away. As they watched, he pivoted on one heel and disappeared down a different corridor. It was impossible to tell how long he had been standing there.


	4. Murphy's Law

_**Chapter Three**_

_**Murphy's Law**_

Luke always said to trust in the Force but lock your speeder. If anyone had asked Mara for her philosophy in life, she might have settled on, "Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong." It was an adage which the Emperor had adhered to religiously. It was in the Emperor's service that Mara had begun to wear a vibroknife in her belt, and two more in her boots. That way, she was prepared for all eventualities.

Except, it seemed, for the eventuality that her husband would hustle her back to their suite the minute she was discharged from the medcenter, pin her against the door and proceed to remove her clothes. Mara was so astonished at first that by the time she had found the presence of mind to say anything, Luke was already down to her undergarments, one hand supporting the small of her back, the other twined in her hair, his mouth busy at her collarbone. She didn't have to ask him what he thought he was doing. His need blazed like a beacon between them in the Force.

On an intellectual level, Mara the assassin was able to register that something was wrong, that it simply wasn't in Luke's nature to want quickies. Mara the woman felt an answering need flare within her, and was soon responding to his ministrations. They fumbled their way to the bed, where she landed on her back, Luke atop her. He had taken most of his weight on his elbows so that she would not have to bear it. Even in the throes of passion, he was nothing if not a considerate lover.

One of his hands snaked down her leg to remove her boot. Mara gasped, "Honey don't forget about the –"

Luke reached down and grasped the handle of the blade between two fingers while expertly wriggling the boot off with thumb and forefinger.

"– knife," she finished.

He laughed and leaned down for another kiss.

* * *

She figured it out later, as they lay spent amidst the tangled sheets. Rather, Mara woke alone, shivering from the lack of Luke's body heat. She could hear him slamming cabinets in the kitchen unit. He was whistling.

She grimaced. Luke was tone-deaf, a trait which Anakin had unfortunately inherited along with his uncle's ice-blue eyes and the earnest desire to save people. All kinds of people, not all of whom warranted saving, in Mara's opinion. But it was an opinion she mostly kept to herself, not wanting to dim the idealism that shone plainly in their eyes – Luke's no less than Anakin's. Even tempered by two decades of loss, the farmboy from Tatooine had never outgrown his idealism. It was one of the things she loved about him.

Luke appeared in a white bathrobe, his hair tousled, bearing a tray with two bowls of soup. "Eat," he commanded as he set it down.

She shook her head. "Hold me."

He crawled into bed and obliged.

After a while she said, "What in the six novas was _that_, Skywalker?"

"Mmm?"

"The mad lovemaking session in the middle of the afternoon."

"Oh, that." Luke propped his head on his elbow and pretended to think about it. "Well, there are a couple of possibilities. For starters, I could be a hormone driven sex fiend, a slave to my libido, as many of my male comrades are."

"Nice try. Except that _I_ remember when we first got together. You were forty if you were a day. Had to teach you a few things, I did."

"Stang, I was hoping you'd forgotten that. What if I told you that Anakin is playing sabacc with Han, and likely will be for the next few hours? Privacy is hard to come by these days. I had to fight my nephew for the privilege of sitting up all night with my unconscious wife."

Mara rolled her eyes. "Please. Anakin is sixteen, old enough to know about the birds and the bees. Besides, you couldn't have managed it alone. Not even healing trances allow you to go days without sleep. You were lucky you had Anakin to relieve you."

"Good point. In that case, maybe," he said, pitching his voice very low, "I like to live dangerously."

And in that instant Mara understood why he had done it. She doubted there were many people besides her who got to see this playful, ardent, eager-to-please side of Luke. It was just as genuine a facet of his personality as the solemn face of the Jedi Master, but a facet which he did not often choose to display. He was displaying it now in an effort to remind her of why she had fallen in love with him in the first place, of what she would be losing if she were to relinquish the fight against the disease.

She said, "I'm not giving up, you know."

"I know, love."

"Then why did you attack me the second we were through the door? It's not like you. You've been treating me like I was made of clari-crystalline. I expected, after a week in the medcenter, you'd have wanted to be extra careful. That you wouldn't want to hurt me."

"Did I?"

"No, of course not."

"So it was worth it." Luke nodded, satisfied.

"So, you didn't have to go to the trouble of staging a big demonstration. I'm not going anywhere."

He sighed. "Don't you think I know that? You've been hanging on like grim death, determined not to yield a centimeter. But that's not how we're going to beat this thing. You're so busy building up walls that you don't have any energy left to enjoy yourself. I wanted to see you crack a smile again."

Mara mulled over this. "Has it been that long?"

"Too long." He pulled her a little closer.

She said, "What are we going to do about Kyp Durron?"

"We'll worry about that later."

"Okay."

* * *

"Do you know why Jaina has been avoiding me?" asked Mara.

Jacen nearly choked on his caf. "I hadn't noticed."

"You're a terrible liar, Jacen."

"Sorry. I know."

"More caf?" said Mara.

He shook his head. They were alone in the living room of the Skywalkers' suite. Luke had been called away to take a live holocomm transmission from Yavin, which was unusual and indicated a matter of some urgency. While Luke had refrained from speculating about the nature of the transmission, she could tell he had been troubled.

"She thinks it's partly her fault how you passed out," Jacen said reluctantly. "Ridiculous, obviously. I bet you were just worried about her. You need to take it easy, Aunt Mara."

Mara bit her lip. She remembered the overwhelming sense of impending doom that had dogged her throughout the Solo childrens' runs, culminating in Jaina's collision and her own collapse. She could not shake the feeling that something significant had happened out there on Lando's Folly that day. If only Mara knew what it was.

"It goes all the way back to what happened in the Yavin system," Jacen continued. "You remember?"

"You mean, when Jaina almost flew a frigate into the gas giant and I had to take the _Sabre_ in after her? Pretty hard to forget."

"Yeah, well, that was the first time the disease … manifested. Right?"

"I see," said Mara, though she didn't.

"It's like this. Every time you get sick, Jaina is always close at hand, always doing something dangerous."

"Now I see. And I have to say, your sister is extremely – "

The door to the suite hissed open and Anakin stomped in. He grunted at Jacen, kissed Mara quickly on the cheek, and disappeared into his room.

Mara looked at Jacen, who shrugged. "How was the sabacc game, Anakin?" she called.

When Anakin emerged a few minutes later, he was dressed in loose-fitting utilities such as he usually wore to the gym.

"Wanna spar, Jace?"

"Not particularly."

"C'mon, best of three."

"I'm having a conversation with Aunt Mara."

"I didn't figure you for a wuss, Jace."

"Anakin Solo, what in the sithspawned Corellian hells is the matter with you?" demanded Mara.

He sank into the couch opposite Jacen. "Nothing. Jaina won. Dad chewed Kyp out for not showing Uncle Luke some respect. That's it."

More gently, Mara said, "Tell me what's wrong."

There was a long silence. "I've been having these dreams about Tahiri."

Jacen snickered. Anakin threw a pillow at him, which he ducked.

"Not _those_ kinds of dreams, you dunce." He turned to Mara, blue eyes beseeching. "It's the same dream every time. She's being held down by this creature straight out of a nightmare. It's slobbering all over her. Aunt Mara, I think it's torturing her. Not just her body – somehow it's inside her head. And every time it's about to close its jaws on her, I wake up. What does it mean?"

"It means that you should tell your uncle as soon as he gets home." She was firm. _I have a bad feeling about this_. "In the meantime, maybe it _would_ be a good idea for the two of you to hit the practice mats. It would take your minds off this doom and gloom. Jacen, you're welcome to stay for dinner."

"I can't. I always bring Jaina a tray from the mess hall. Best of three, you said, Anakin?"

* * *

When Anakin had first come to live with the Skywalkers, he had been a taciturn boy of eleven, disinclined to string more than two words together whenever monosyllables would suffice. It hadn't taken Mara long to determine that he was neither shy nor unsociable. He was brilliant. His brain tended to operate on an entirely different plane from his companions. Jacen and Jaina admitted their little brother was a genius, but they mentioned it in the same tone as they might remark that Kashyyyk was covered in trees. Clearly, they were so accustomed to Anakin's reticence that they took it for granted. This was the way things had always been, Anakin the single lonely planet circling the twin suns.

Which was why Mara had been overjoyed when Anakin had settled into orbit about his very own primary – a bubbly, barefooted blonde girl whose zest for life fairly sang in the Force. Last year during the school vacation, Mara had invited Tahiri back to Coruscant with them. By the end of the vacation, Anakin and Tahiri had been just as grease-spattered – and every ounce as unrepentant – as Jacen, Jaina, and Zekk. Mara never found out what the five of them had been doing in the undercity. Some things it was better to turn a blind eye to.

Yet Mara was remembering now a time before the advent of Tahiri, when Anakin had been so close-mouthed that Mara had suspected that the boy's jaw was permanently locked shut. He had been eager enough to learn lightsaber technique from Luke or Holocron lore from Tionne, but as soon as he came home he seemed to don a mask, and no amount of coaxing on Mara's part could convince him to remove it.

Until the night that she had woken with a cramp in her side and a craving for milk. As she had made her way past Anakin's door, the glass of blue liquid balanced in one hand, she had heard a muffled sound coming from within. Anakin was whimpering in his sleep.

She had put down her milk and remained with him until he had woken, stifling a scream.

_Everybody has nightmares_, she had told him.

_Not these kinds of nightmares_, he had assured her.

He dreamed about his grandfather – his namesake. He dreamed about him every night. He dreamed about becoming another Vader.

Looking back, that had been the beginning of their special rapport. Mara had been the first person Anakin had opened up to, even before Tahiri. Mara could never have imagined, all those years ago, how deeply she would come to care for him. It was different from the way she loved Luke. The fact was, she always felt that there was a selfish component to her love for Luke – Luke who was the center of her universe, Luke who understood her like no one else did. With Anakin, Mara never ceased to be astounded by how much she had to _give_. Mara had never considered herself an especially generous or maternal person. She knew better now.

It might have been maternal instinct that woke her this time. She was still, reaching out with her senses, and when she was certain of what she would find, she slid out from under the covers.

"Mara?" Luke's voice was groggy with sleep.

"It's Anakin. Nightmares again."

It was worse than usual. Anakin was thrashing on the floor, encased in a cocoon of blankets. Mara forbore to shake him awake. Last time she had done that, he had gone for a choke hold. He'd not gotten anywhere near her throat, of course, but Mara would rather not give him a shock if she could help it.

She sent a tendril of inquiry questing towards him through the Force. Within a few seconds, he had stopped thrashing and was staring at Mara, blue eyes wide with alarm.

"They've got her. I know what it means now, Aunt Mara."

"Who's got who?"

"Tahiri. They've got Tahiri."

"_Who's_ got Tahiri?"

"The monster. They're going to torture her. I have to stop them." As he spoke he was shoving things into a carryall – glowrods, credits, datachips.

Mara opened her mouth to tell him to calm down but that was when she saw Luke standing in the doorway. Something in his eyes caught her attention. She took his arm and guided him into the corridor.

"Do you have any idea what's behind this? Your nephew is acting like a raving lunatic. Your nephew, who is normally one of the most levelheaded teenagers I know."

Luke rubbed the back of his neck. "I may have … some idea, yes. It's about that message from the Praxeum this afternoon."

"Yes?"

"I didn't tell you earlier because it concerns Anakin and you're no good at shielding from him when it comes to this sort of thing."

"Well, you better tell me now if you don't want me to stick you full of needles."

"It's Tahiri. She's gone – took off in a TIE fighter for parts unknown."

Mara felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. "I'm going to tell him."

"That's what I was afraid of," said Luke.


	5. Cat's Cradle

_**Chapter Four**_

_**Cat's Cradle**_

_Six months earlier_

_Great Temple, Jedi Academy, Yavin IV_

"You know, I think I could have had a successful career as an event planner," said Leia, looking up from the holochart she was studying.

Han tossed his datapad aside aside. With a perfectly straight face he asked, "Would you have just done graduations, or weddings and diplomatic receptions too?"

"Of course I'd do weddings. That's where the fun is. When Luke and Mara got married …"

"When Luke and Mara got married, it was Kam Solusar and a bunch of rocks."

"The _other_ wedding, dear."

"Oh, you mean the one where I flew them to the reception in the _Falcon_? Are you saying my services are needed again?" Han rose and crossed to his wife's side, peering over her shoulder. "How are the seating arrangements coming?"

"They're not. I can't figure out where to put us."

"With the kids, obviously. That should be easy."

Leia looked doubtful. "Okay. Should Chewie sit with us, or with Lowie's family?"

He took a minute to think about it. "With Lowie," he finally said. "Given that Waroo and Malla are coming, it's better to put all the Wookies together."

"That's what I thought. So no Chewie. That leaves you, me, Jacen, Jaina, Anakin, Luke and Mara."

"Right."

"Plus Tahiri, because she doesn't have any family coming, and we've practically adopted her."

Han smirked. "Are you going to plan Anakin and Tahiri's wedding next, Princess?"

She swatted his arm, then bit her lip. "Han, do you think Teneniel Djo and Isolder are coming?"

"I don't know. Did they say they would?"

"I know that Teneniel wants to, very much so. But I also know, from personal experience, how hard it is to take time off when you're a galactic head of state. She can't exactly make it an official visit, given the Hapes Cluster's prevailing attitude towards the Jedi."

"You've talked to her lately," said Han.

Leia nodded. "She seems sad. The crown weighs heavily on her."

"All right, so Teneniel and Isolder may or may not be coming. What's the problem?"

"The problem is, if they're not coming, Tenel Ka will have to sit with us."

"Of course. Jacen'll probably insist on it." He did a quick mental calculation. "We'll have a full table – nine people."

She shook her head slowly. "Zekk," she reminded him.

"Blast it, why do our kids have to go and make friends exclusively with orphans?"

It was Leia's turn to look smug. "You didn't have an issue with Tahiri. But as soon as someone gets within a ten-meter radius of your little girl, you're ready to shoot him on sight."

"Damn straight I am. Though I guess it wouldn't be fair to Jaina."

"Try to keep that in mind, will you, sweetheart? She's not used to being here. She doesn't have that many friends at the Academy."

"She has her brothers," he pointed out.

"I think they're at that age where the only girl they're _not_ interested in is their sister."

Han had to concede her point. Since landing on Yavin Four, he had run into Jacen any number of times, but on each occasion his elder son seemed to be either chasing down escaped members of his menagerie, or chasing a certain red-headed Dathomiri warrior. Anakin had been equally busy. Just this morning, he had popped in to inform his parents that he and Tahiri were going rafting. The two of them had raced down the hall, as giddy as – well, as giddy as two teenagers who had just finished their last day of class, and anticipated a whole glorious week of freedom.

With a wry smile, Han recalled some of the antics he had gotten up to in the week leading up to his graduation from the Imperial Academy. It was a miracle that he had managed to remain upright for the ceremony, much less give the valedictorian speech. It seemed that kids everywhere were gripped by the same impulse – to savor that last gasp of freedom, to breathe the carefree air of academia one more time before heading out into the real world. Of course, not all of the Jedi candidates would be leaving the Praxeum. The ceremony was only for the older students; of these some would be assigned Masters, while others would continue to study under Kam and Tionne while also assisting with the younglings' training. Luke had emphasized that it was not a knighting ceremony; those were more serious, and scheduled on an individual basis. Rather, this was an occasion for family and friends to celebrate the young Jedi's progress.

Han knew that Leia was worried about Jaina: How would she fit in with the other youngsters, for whom tapping into the Force was like breathing? Admittedly Han himself, who was as Force-blind as they came, got along fine with any number of Jedi, but Han's upbringing had been very different from Jaina's. Jaina seemed to believe that being Force-blind was akin to missing a limb, and so like a blind person she honed her other senses to acuity in order to compensate. Han wondered if she would have been nearly as good a pilot, or half as good a shot with a blaster rifle, if she had been born with as much potential in the Force as her brothers.

"Is there nowhere else you can put Zekk?" he asked Leia.

"The only other open table is with Raynar Thul and his parents."

Han made a face. "I met Bornan Thul once. That was years ago on Alderaan."

"I can see that the two of you hit it off famously," she said.

"Well, I may have gotten kind of friendly with his girlfriend. She was a singer. But honestly, what did he expect? A good-looking guy like me can't help being popular with the ladies."

Leia's expression told him what she thought of _that_. She pushed her chair back from the table and stood up. "These holocharts are giving me a headache. Want to go for a walk?"

"See what I mean?" he said. "Always in demand. I'll have you know that there are still women ready to beat down the door for a minute of my time …"

Snickering softly, she hooked her arm through his and guided him towards the door.

* * *

Anakin and Tahiri had cleared five or six smaller rapids when they heard the rumble of the waterfall. The sound quickly grew to deafening proportions. They made for the shore. Sitting in the bow of the small raft, Tahiri was paddling furiously, droplets of water spraying across her bare white arms and bright orange life vest. Behind her, Anakin was doing the same.

They dragged the raft just far enough up the bank so that it would not be washed away by the current, and collapsed against a purple-veined Massassi tree. It was cool in the shade, where it had been hot on the river under the midday sun. After a while, Tahiri got up. She fished around in the bottom of the raft, which contained a puddle some ten centimeters deep, until she found a cylindrical plasteel tin. She twisted the cap off and sniffed, wrinkling her nose. "There goes our picnic lunch."

"Why did we have to have a picnic lunch in the first place?" asked Anakin. "The cafeteria's always been good enough for me."

"It's not about the _lunch_, it's about the _picnic_, dummy." Throwing the waterlogged tin back, she strode over to Anakin, took both his hands and hauled him to his feet. "C'mon, there's something I want to show you."

She led him through the jungle, bare feet pattering silently over soft tree roots, and Anakin had to wonder if she had been here before. But she couldn't possibly have made it this far downriver by herself – they'd been close to capsizing at least twice. Soon they emerged from beneath the opaque canopy into dazzling sunlight, and Anakin felt his breath lodge in his throat.

They were standing at the edge of a sheer drop of a couple hundred meters. Across from them was the waterfall, and below them a crystal-clear pool whose waters were so transparent that he could see its pebbly bottom. Tahiri was still holding his hand.

"Ready?" she said.

He nodded.

They jumped.

When they reached out to slow each other's descent with the Force, it was like he had never let go of her at all, even though they were no longer touching, and spinning so fast he couldn't see her. He could feel, her, though – sometimes when they did this it was hard to tell where he ended and she began. They had discovered the falling dance as children and perfected it as adolescents. The principle was easy, the execution difficult. As Anakin had once explained to Jacen, it was akin to the "trust fall" exercise which Uncle Luke conducted with his third-year trainees: The hard part wasn't catching the other person, but trusting the other person to catch _you_.

He could feel the joy pouring out of Tahiri, the sheer exuberance at being young and free and together. Then, feather light, their feet touched water. Tahiri wriggled her toes. They had landed at the edge of the pool.

The first thing she said was, "Wow! We should do that more often!"

"What if we'd landed in the deep end?"

"Good thing you taught me to swim, isn't it?" She laughed and spun away from him, wading thigh-deep into the water.

Later, lying in the sun, their clothes soaked from splashing each other and her head resting in his lap, he asked, "How did you find this place?"

"I saw it in a dream."

Anakin was not surprised. The first time the two of them had gone on an adventure, they had been impelled by a recurring dream. They had wound up in a raft in the middle of a thunderstorm. Back then, Tahiri had not known how to swim.

"Imagine, we could have had a picnic out here. I don't think the weather's been so nice in ages."

"It's been the rainy season for the last three months," he pointed out. Experimentally he curled a strand of pale blonde hair around his finger and then unwound it. "You should let your hair grow out."

"Maybe. It's too much work. I wish I had straight hair like you."

"I think your hair is beautiful."

She sat up too quickly, knocking her forehead against his. "Ow." Sea green eyes studied him in astonishment. "You think my hair is _beautiful_? Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?"

"Well, it is," he said defensively. _Where did that_ _come from?_ "Lie down again before you hurt yourself."

She gave him another disbelieving look but obeyed. He itched to run his fingers through the bright yellow halo spread out before him, but he suppressed the impulse. She would think he'd gone off the deep end for sure.

"I can't believe it's going to be over," she said. "In another five days we'll be graduates of the Jedi Academy. Where do you think they'll post us? I hope they don't send me to some backwater planet on the Outer Rim. I had enough of that on Tatooine. I'm ready for some city living."

"Give it time, Tahiri. You're only fourteen."

"You're sixteen and you've been to loads more places than me."

"I'm going to be Aunt Mara's apprentice." He was almost certain of it, from hints that his uncle and aunt had let drop in recent weeks.

"What about me? Which Master will they assign me to?"

"Maybe Tionne – "

"Sith, no. I love Tionne but I swear she thinks she's going to make a galactic singing sensation out of me."

"Well, you do have a nice voice."

"My, aren't we brimming with compliments today?"

Anakin felt himself flush. He said, "Who do you want to be paired with, then?"

"I know who I'm _not_ going to be paired with – Cilghal. I have less talent for healing than Bothans do for telling the truth. And as I have absolutely _no_ interest in the military, I can't see why they'd put me with Master Hamner. I'm kind of hoping for Master Horn, actually, but you know he's going to want to take on Valin in a couple of years and plus he thinks I'm a smartmouth and we'd probably spend all day going at it like neks. It's really too bad though, because Master Horn can do the coolest stuff, like that energy absorption trick, and I'm sure he has loads of stories from the Rebellion and his years with the Rogues. Hey, I bet he'd make a great Master for _you_ – if you didn't already have Mara, I mean. Wait a minute. You know who would be perfect? Kirana Ti! She's a Master but she does her own thing. I doubt they'll give her Tenel Ka, because Tenel Ka is _already_ Dathomiri and that would be too much witchiness in one place. Master Skywalker wants us to expand our comfort zones. Does that mean he'll let me learn Dathomiri spells? Well, what do you think, Anakin? Why are you so quiet?"

He grinned. "I was just waiting for you to run out of breath."

"Anakin!"

"Oh, I don't know. They might give you to Master Durron." He tried to keep a straight face as he said it, and failed miserably.

He had expected her eyebrows to shoot up to her forehead, but instead she rolled over onto her side and dissolved into giggles. He laid a hand on her shoulder but she waved him off. "Gimme … another …. minute."

When the giggles had subsided, she said, "I don't think Master Durron is looking for an apprentice right now." She smiled in a way that suggested she knew something Anakin didn't, and was dying for him to ask what it was.

"Why don't you just tell me and get it out of your system? I'd hate for you to burst a blood vessel or something."

"Okay, fine. You know how Jaina is helping Master Durron fix that old shuttle he found on Nar Shaddaa?"

"Sure. She was supposed to help Chewie with the _Falcon_, except they got into an argument. A big one. Chewie threw her out."

"So Master Katarn sent me to ask Master Durron if he would sub for the advanced lightsaber technique class. Normally Master Durron would have jumped at the opportunity. He's just the tiniest bit full of himself."

Anakin smiled. "You don't say."

"And when I got to the _Lullaby_ – that's what he's calling the ship – I heard shouting and I was afraid he was giving Jaina a hard time, because last week in Mental Manipulation he called me 'bright enough, for a blonde' – "

"He didn't."

"He did. I think after the blistering I gave his ears he won't do it again. But listen. I walked right up the landing ramp and into the hold, and neither of them paid me any attention. There were power couplings and hydrospanners all over the place. And you know what? Jaina could take care of herself just fine. She was letting loose with this string of swear words that showed some real creativity – I was tempted to take notes – and there was Master Durron leaning against the bulkhead, arms crossed over his chest, giving as good as he got."

"Those two could go at it for hours, I bet. What happened when they noticed you?"

"They noticed me right away, they just chose not to acknowledge me. They were having too much fun. When Jaina finally ran out of steam, Master Durron nodded at me and I gave him Master Katarn's message and he considered it for about two seconds. Then he told me no."

"_Kyp Durron_ said no? This is the same Kyp Durron who had a row with Uncle Luke for assigning Kyle Katarn to teach advanced lightsaber technique, right?"

"He said he was grateful to Master Katarn for offering but he was going to be otherwise occupied. Then he looked at Jaina, just in case it wasn't clear what he was talking about. And I got the feeling that there was a lot more going on than just her fixing his ship. Jaina made me promise not to tell Jacen or your parents, so you remember to keep your mouth shut, okay?"

"She didn't make you promise not to tell me?"

Tahiri snorted. "Please. She knows that telling me is as good as telling you."

"All right. But I still don't see what this has to do with the chances of Master Durron taking on an apprentice."

"Oh, that. Jaina was accusing him of abandoning the Jedi Order, of not taking seriously his role as a mentor for the next generation, of believing himself so far above the other Masters that he's refusing to take their views into account. I gather that once she's patched it up, he's planning to take the frigate, recruit a squadron and chase pirates around the Rim. Some sort of self-appointed galactic defense force. And it seems to me, Master Skywalker's not likely to let him do that with an apprentice in tow. Which is probably fine by Master Durron. Except … well, if circumstances were different, I feel like he wouldn't mind having Jaina for an apprentice."

Anakin's first reaction was to laugh, but the more he thought about it, the more sense it made – like one of Jacen's jokes that got funnier every time he retold it and you realized it was so lame that it had actually crossed the border into riotously hilarious. "You're right. They'd make a great team."

"So I reckon I'm safe from Master Durron," said Tahiri, beaming. She edged closer and rested her chin on his shoulder, so her forehead was touching his temple.

He said, "Do you think it's wrong, what Master Durron is planning?"

"It's hard to say. Ever since your uncle founded the Praxeum, he's pretty much been running things, hasn't he? I think Master Durron is the first one to really challenge the way Master Skywalker does things, and I think either way – whether or not they work out their differences – there are going to be some changes in the Order."

"I think Kyp has it right."

Tahiri drew back to look at him. "Are you going to join him?"

"No, not yet. Later, maybe, when I've spent a few years under Aunt Mara. I'm not ready yet."

"Good." There was undisguised relief in her voice. "Anakin, I want you to do something for me."

"What?"

"I want you to teach me how to fly."

He gave her a Solo smirk. "I thought you'd never ask."

"Don't get your hopes up," she warned him. "I haven't turned into a deranged space jockey like you or Jaina. I just want to make sure that when the time comes, no matter what kind of crazy idea you get into your head, there's somebody to watch your back."

"Oh." The depth of Tahiri's concern for him was astounding. He'd always known that she didn't share his intuitive understanding of machines, especially ships; that she found it impossible to let her feelings guide her hand on the control yoke, as he did. That she was willing to put her own inclinations aside in order to follow him to the edge of reason and beyond, was a testament to the strength of their bond. _What have I done to deserve a girl like this? _he wondered.

His hands were stroking her hair. This time she didn't object or tease him about it. Reluctantly, he stepped back and held her at arm's length. Then he glanced meaningfully at the cliff from which they had jumped. "_I'm_ the one with the crazy ideas, huh? How did you figure to get us out of here, anyway?"

"There's a tributary," she said, smiling sweetly up at him. "I told you it was a good thing I learned to swim."


End file.
